“But where did you hope to get to?”
“I didn’t care. I just wanted to escape from the spiders. So we simply went on walking until we were out in the countryside. After a while, the children became tired and hungry. But we found an orchard with apples and plums, and a stream, so we all rested for an hour. Then one of the children told me that she had seen a spider balloon, and I crept to the edge of the orchard and looked out. And I saw there were men in the balloon — men in yellow clothes. I knew they were the servants of the beetles. We watched the balloon until it seemed to sink into some woodland. Then I made the children walk across the fields until we came to the woods. We all shouted, and the three men came and found us. They brought us back here.”
“Was it a long journey to the city of the beetles?”
“Not very far, but it took a long time because we had to keep hiding from the spiders. We saw lots of spiders in the fields, and at first we thought they were looking for us. Then we almost walked into one of them — it came suddenly from behind some trees — and it didn’t even see us. I think there was something wrong with it.”
“In what way?”
“It was walking as if it was dazed, or wounded. Or perhaps just very tired. . .”
The door opened, and Selima looked in.
“I think you ought to let him rest now.”
“All right.” She gave him a quick smile and went out. It was only then that Niall realised how tired he felt. He tried to think about what Dona had told him, but it was impossible to focus his mind. Yet the knowledge that she was safe filled him with a sense of well-being; he was thinking about her as he drifted into sleep.
Then he was dreaming that he was floating above the spider city in a balloon. There was a smell of burning in the air, and he could see smoke drifting up from the smouldering houses in the slave quarter. The devastation there was appalling; street after street had been levelled into rubble. The town hall square was clearly visible, with its green lawns, but the building itself was a ruin, with only two broken walls left standing. To the south, where the barracks had stood, there was now a wide expanse of water, joined to the river by a broad and irregular channel. As Niall drifted over it, he could see the bodies of spiders floating upwards in the brown water.
The balloon had crossed the river and passed within a few feet of the white tower. Most of the buildings in this part of the city seemed to be undamaged, but the streets were strewn with broken glass. He passed close to Kazak’s palace, and leaned out of the undercarriage, trying to see in through its windows. As he did so, he heard his mother’s voice calling his name. He cupped his hands and shouted: “I’m here! Where are you?” Her voice called back: “Here, in the bedroom.” It was so clear that she seemed to be only a few feet away.
He woke up with a start and looked round the room, expecting to see her. It was dusk, and the room was empty. For a moment he felt like bursting into tears of sorrow and disappointment. Then, as he stared at the purple sky out of the window, he suddenly became aware of her presence. As soon as he closed his eyes and focused his mind, he could see her sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom in Kazak’s palace; her eyes were also closed. Their minds made contact, and he experienced joy and relief as he received her message that they were safe. But as he tried to send her a picture of his own situation, his concentration wavered; his brain was still numb with sleep. The contact was lost, and he was alone.
A few minutes later, Doggins peeped in through the door.
“Feeling better?”
“Much better, thanks.”
“Well enough to attend a meeting?”
His heart sank. “Another council meeting?”
“No — just human beings this time. But I’m going to need your support.”
“My support?” The idea surprised him.
“It’s our stadion — that’s a kind of civic council. I’m told they intend to try and pass a motion of censure against me.”
“Would it matter?”
“Oh yes. They could order me to destroy the Reapers.”
“Wouldn’t that be rather stupid?”
Before Doggins could reply, there was a tap at the door, and Selima came in, carrying a light whose brilliance filled the room. She placed it on the table and went out. Niall stared at it with astonishment.
“What’s that?”
“A simple pressure lamp. It’s a kind of family secret. My grandfather invented it eight years ago, but we’ve never been allowed to use it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged with disgust. “The crawlies say it’s a machine.”
“How does it work?”
“This contains oil.” He tapped the shining metal globe at the base of the lamp. “A pump forces it up this tube, and it’s vaporised as it strikes this ceramic mantle. Simple, really.”
Niall stared at it with fascination. It was not simply the design that intrigued him, but his sense of being perfectly familiar with it already. Then a flash of intuition gave him the answer. Like his ability to read, this knowledge had been implanted in his memory by the Steegmaster. As this insight came to him, he experienced a glimpse of many other items of knowledge that lay slumbering in the depths of his memory; for a few seconds he experienced a bewildering sense of double-exposure, as if his identity was suddenly in doubt.
Doggins reached into a drawer.
“Here’s another item of forbidden knowledge.”
He tossed a book on to the bed. Niall looked at the title: The Principles of Electronics.
“Why forbidden?”
“Because books are forbidden. Paragraph twenty-two of the Peace Treaty: ‘There shall be no printing or circulation of books on pain of death.’ So most of the books are in museums, locked in glass cases.”
“But you can read?”
“Of course. Most of us can. It’s a secret we pass on from father to son. But if the spiders found out, we’d be in trouble. Twenty years ago they discovered that one of our people could read — an old man of ninety — and insisted on having him executed.”
“And the beetles agreed?”
“They had no alternative — it’s in the Treaty.”
Niall was turning the pages of the book, baffled by the mathematical symbols. Doggins asked casually:
“Who taught you to read?”
It took Niall a moment to register the question. Then he looked up, startled.
“How did you know I can?”
“I could see your eyes moving. Who taught you?”
Niall grinned. “A machine.”
Doggins looked at him from under lowered eyebrows.
“The same machine that gave you the food tablets?”
Niall laughed at his penetration. “That’s right.”
“And where is this machine?”
“In the white tower.”
Doggins’ eyes widened. “Are you serious?” Niall nodded. “Have you been in there?”
“Yes.”
Doggins” face had suddenly become pale.
“How did you get in?”
“With this.” Niall leaned over and picked up the telescopic rod, which was lying on top of his clothes. He pressed the button, and it expanded. He handed it to Doggins. “Can you feel anything?”
“A kind of a tingle?” Doggins was trying to keep his voice level, but the shaking of his hand betrayed his excitement. “Where did you find it?”
“In the desert.” Niall described how they had taken shelter from the sandstorm, and how the wind had uncovered the desert city. When he described the glittering machine, Doggins nodded.
“That would be a Grasshopper. It was the chief mode of long distance transport at the end of the twenty-first century.” He looked at the rod in his hands. “But I’ve never seen one of these before. Sorry, go on.”
As Niall described how he had found himself inside the tower, Doggins’ excitement became intense; he obviously found it hard to sit still. His face lost its paleness and became flushed. What intrigued Niall was that he seemed to be able to feel this excitement radiating from Doggins like a physical force; he found it curiously disturbing and tiring. It was almost a relief when, as he was describing the Steegmaster, Doggins interrupted him.
“That proves I was right! Glorfin says we ought to be contented to stay as we are. . .”
“Glorfin?”
“Our civic leader, head of the stadion. He says we ought to be contented to serve the beetles and live peaceful lives. But why did the men of old store all that knowledge if they didn’t intend us to use it?”
“They did intend us to use it — when we’re ready for it.”